Pray Tell
by Lumora The White
Summary: The following is canon compliant within The Family Business Universe. Season 6 Episode 02 - Two and A Half Men - Now that the supernatural has wormed its way back into Dean's life, it seems that Christine is destined to rejoin the adventure. Will they keep their childhood promise, 'to Hell and back, whatever the cost? The adventure continues in two parts...
The Family Business 'verse

The following is canon compliant within The Family Business Universe. Season 6 ep 02 - Two and A Half Men - After returning from Hell, Christine Elliott let Dean Winchester be. She let him build a normal life, while she teamed up with his younger brother, Sam. Now that the supernatural has wormed its way back into Dean's life, it seems that Christine is destined to rejoin the adventure too. Will they keep their childhood promise, 'to Hell and back, whatever the cost'? Or will Dean's tryst with Lisa, and Christine's betrayal with Sam prove more of an obstacle than either hunter is willing to admit?

* * *

 **Season 6 ep 02 - Two and A Half Men**

" **Pray Tell"**

 **THEN**

" _I think that settles it," Bobby said handing Christine a small suitcase. "Lisa helped me pack some of your things to get you by, just in case." He gave her a wink._

 _Sam cleared his throat. Dean nodded, "I'll walk you out. Keep in touch, you hear?" Christine followed the men as Lisa, Ben and Bobby went inside._

 _Sam shrugged, "Course." He scoffed, then he turned sober, " It was really good to see you again, Dean." He wrapped Christine up in a hug, "See ya, Christine." He murmured, locking eyes with Dean over her shoulder. Then he got in his sleek new Charger and drove off._

 _Dean turned to find Christine already walking back up the walk, towards the house. He sighed. Things were going to be weird alright, but at least he had her back._

 **NOW**

"Three weeks?!" Christine Elliott exclaimed, "Seriously, Doc." She sighed, "I'm a bartender, and" _'a hunter'_ She added silently, "I can't afford to be down a wing-"

"Three weeks, little missy." Doc Hampton cut her off, "That shoulder needs to heal, or you'll never bartend again." He sighed, "I understand you need it, that's why I'm insisting you take this seriously."

Christine just nodded, taking the prescription for pain meds the doctor held out to her. He patted her on her good shoulder and left the room. A nurse came in a few seconds later to guide her to the exit and check out.

* * *

Dean Winchester sat in the driver's seat of his beloved Impala. Sunlight filtered through the tree he parked under, giving the world around him a soft glow. Christine insisted he get Baby out and go for a drive every once in awhile. ' _Cars were made to be driven, Dean.'_ She'd insist, _'After all, nobody puts Baby in a corner.'_ She _'_ d add with a knew she was right. Hell, he'd drive Baby to the construction site if he didn't worry about falling debris and prying eyes so much.

Instances like this needed a little cheering up. Christine fell off a stock room ladder a few weeks ago at work, and he'd finally convinced her to go get her shoulder looked at, by a professional. He'd reset the socket, but he could tell it still bothered her. So he didn't even wait for her to ask, he'd fired up the Impala when she'd mentioned she had a doctor's appointment that afternoon. He'd taken the day off, and drove her in style.

Christine emerged from the doctor's office, right arm held close to her chest in a sling. She wanted to tear the thing off, but if she was totally honest, the sling took the pressure of her strained joint and it felt really good. Dean moved the family to Battle Creek, Michigan after the Djinn attacked them. Dean and Chris always had a soft spot for the mitten state, the lush trees, the water, not to mention the ridiculous amount of supernatural activity, made it almost feel like home. The Campbell Family compound was just over an hour away, giving Christine a little piece of mind about the move over all. If things didn't work out with Dean, she didn't have to go too far to find people who would take her in.

Dean still couldn't get over how drop dead gorgeous Christine was. Here they were, four years and counting, and he couldn't hardly take his eyes off her. His attraction to her had gotten them into a few tight spots over the years. He would usually warn other hunters to not have attachments in this life. Christine was definitely the exception. He didn't consider her to be a distraction, she was more of a companion who had the ability to distract him, or at least that was what he told himself. Dean pushed out of the driver's seat, and jogged around the car to open the passenger side door for her as she approached. She looked defeated, and he couldn't help himself as he said, "You're chariot, m'lady." He smirked, offering her his hand.

Christine couldn't help the goofy grin that graced her lips as she took Dean's hand and slid into the Impala's passenger seat. Dean always had a way of getting her laughing, or helping her put the darkness behind her, at least for a few moments. She turned to face him as he slid into the driver's seat. "Thank you, Dean." She murmured, reaching with her left hand to ruffle his hair a bit.

He leaned towards her a little, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "You're welcome, Chris." He said softly. Then he turned the key and they peeled out towards the house they shared with Lisa and Ben.

* * *

At first the arrangement was weird. Lisa pulled Christine aside, and explained how tense the last year had been. While she loved having Dean around as father figure for Ben, she understood that he loved Christine. It was hard for them to really get involved, more often than not, he just held onto her in the dark. Lisa told her about the nightmares, and how Dean had more than once awoken with Christine's name on his lips. She wanted to help them heal, and if that meant taking a break from hunting and trying their hand at a normal life, she was glad to help. Lisa also reminded her that they were family, even though Dean wasn't blood. After all, family didn't end with blood.

In an effort to relieve the awkwardness, Dean opted to sleep in the room above the garage. He and Ben deemed it 'The Man Cave.' It helped that it had its own entrance, so bedtime lost its awkwardness rather quickly. Ben would head off to bed first, then Lisa would disappear. Dean would be usually be out in the garage tinkering on something. Christine could be found by his side, unless she was slinging drinks behind the bar at the saloon in town. She'd gotten the job not long after settling in to Lisa and Ben's everyday routine. Dean worked at a construction project in town, and did mechanic work on the side.

Christine convinced Dean that keeping everyone on "lockdown" was completely unrealistic. If he didn't want Ben to grow up to become a hunter, he had to loosen the reins a bit. They could still protect themselves. They salted the windows and doors, painted devil's traps under rugs, hid silver knives in the kitchen, along with jugs of holy water throughout the house. This seemed to allow Dean to relax a little.

A few weeks passed without incident. They all settled into a comfortable routine, and seemed to be making progress in repairing their relationships. One night last week, Lisa announced to the dinner table that she and Ben were taking a trip to see her sister in Illinois for the weekend. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he met Christine's eyes across the table. They left late that morning, just after Christine had roused herself from bed; she bartended the previous evening. Now she had a three days off. Dean was also off work, some supplies hadn't come through for the next phase of the project he was on. Knowing she had the days off convinced her that it was time to see a doctor.

Now she was down a wing, and was going to have to take the next few weeks off work. She pulled out her cell phone, and after a few fumbles pressed send. "Hey, Max." She said when the other end picked up. "Pretty good." She answered his greeting, glancing at Dean. "Doc says, three weeks." Max exclaimed in disappointment on the other end. "Yeah, I know." She sighed. "Listen, if you need someone to just fill-in, take cash, wipe tables. I can do that. Slinging drinks is going to be tough when I'm down an arm." He wished her well, and told her to just get back with him when she got the all clear. "Thanks Max." She hung up, slamming her good fist down on the seat beside her. "Son of a bitch." She swore.

"Hey now," Dean cut in, "That's my line." He grinned over at her as they pulled into the garage.

Christine just shrugged, "It's a good line." She shot back, sliding out of the car. Dean rushed to pull the cloth cover over the Impala, and followed Christine inside. He found her bent over in the fridge. "Hey, I'm gonna make a salad, you want something?" She turned around with an arm full of vegetables, balancing them on her sling quite impressively.

Dean stepped forward, grabbing a bag of spinach before it hit the floor. "Sure, how about I handle the chopping, and you tell me what to do, eh?" He grinned at her with his infamous shit-eating grin. "First, I'm gonna call for a pizza. Then we'll get started in the kitchen." He pulled out his cell phone, and called their go to pizza place in town.

* * *

Christine left the kitchen while Dean made his phone call. She wandered upstairs to her room and began changing into her go-to comfort outfit; cropped yoga pants and a tank top. She managed to wriggle out of her sling, and change her clothes without too much pain until she pulled the top down down over her head. She let out a yelp of pain as a soft knock sounded on her door frame.

"Chris," Dean began, but stopped at the sight of her in just yoga pants and a sports bra. He cleared his throat. "Are you okay?" He asked in response to her yelp of pain, taking a tentative step into the room.

Christine sighed, "Yes, Dean. I'm fine." She ground out, turning away from him, but not before he caught a glimpse of a new scar across her collarbone. She didn't want to be this close to him right now, it was making her brain fuzzy.

"Here," Dean said coming up behind her. "Let me." He gently cradled her shoulder with his hand while his motioned for her to extend her arms up toward the ceiling.

Christine pursed her lips together to keep from moaning aloud at the skin to skin contact. Dean's warm breath tickled the back of her neck, and his body pressed up against hers for support. He carefully helped her pull the top down over her head, then picked the sling up from the floor, helping her fasten it into place. Dean stepped back, giving her room to turn around. "Thanks, Winchester." She murmured, forcing a smile. Dean nodded, and let her go past him.

He followed her downstairs, and began fixing up the veggies for the salad. He never thought this would be his life. Here he was, in a clean, well cared for home, preparing an evening meal, with a woman whom he loved with every fiber of his being. This definitely wasn't the hunter's life, happiness wasn't this easy. He'd hurt her more times than he cared to count, but he loved her more than he had admitted to himself, definitely more than he'd ever told her. Even when they'd been thrown forward five years into 2014 by Zachariah, he didn't tell her, not really. It took this last year to realize how much of a part of him she'd become.

Christine busied herself wiping down the counter and table, and setting out some plates and bowls for their meal. She stole a glance at Dean; he had his lower lip caught between his teeth and his brow furrowed with the concentration and effort of chopping vegetables. The picture was priceless, considering all the times he told her and Sam how he didn't eat 'rabbit food.' Christine couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up in her chest. She pressed her knuckles to her lips as her shoulders shook with her growing laughter.

Dean looked up from the cucumber he was chopping to find Christine laughing. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair tumbled wildly around her bare shoulders. He suddenly wanted to kiss her; just stride across the room, take her in his arms and kiss the world away. He tore his eyes away from her face and set the knife down. "What's so funny, Chris?" He drawled, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Christine shook her head, "Nothing," She giggled a little bit more, "Can you believe this is our life?" She asked, taking a deep breath to calm herself, keeping the hysteria from setting in. She set the rag she was using down in the sink, walking over to the fridge to return the unused vegetables left on the counter. "I never imagined I'd be living something so-"

"Normal?" Dean finished for her. He'd come up behind her while she'd been talking. When she straightened, he slammed the fridge shut. She whirled around and he gently pinned her against its surface.

Unlike the time she had literally twisted his arm to get him out of Bobby's house to the bar for one her youth band's gigs, this time she didn't have the upper hand. Damn. Being down an arm really did suck. She just bit her lip and pushed at his chest a little with her still in-use hand. "Dean," She started to say, flicking her eyes up to meet his. The words of protest died on her lips when she saw the concern dwelling in his eyes.

Dean stared down at Christine, watching the emotions play out across her face. He could tell she was tired, she obviously hadn't slept well the night before. Her shoulder definitely needed some rest, he could see to that. Images of her sharing his bed, and waking up wearing one of his old Zeppelin t-shirts, flashed through his mind. He really missed having her with him. He leaned down a little, hovering over her lips with his own. He could feel the panic rising in her chest. "Hey," He breathed, "I won't do anything you don't want, Chris." He chuckled a bit, "I'm a patient man. I'll wait forever if I have to."

Christine could feel her body surrendering to his nearness. She craved the intimacy they shared before she jumped headlong back into Hell. His 2014 self told her, ' _I never officially made you a Winchester, but you definitely played the part._ ' when they were thrown forward five years by Zachariah last fall. She sighed, letting her good hand drift up over his frame, fingers curling into his hair. She was brave enough to face Hell again for the world's sake, she could only hope she was strong enough to face their relationship for her own.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Dean's head snapped up and he pushed off the fridge, padding over to the front door. He yanked it open to reveal a young punk holding a pizza.

"Hey man." The kid said, "Pepperoni and mushroom, extra sauce." He held out the pizza to Dean.

Dean nodded, pulling out his wallet. "Keep the change, kid." He drawled, taking the pizza and shutting the door with his foot. Christine was still lingering in the kitchen, wiping the countertop with her good hand.

Dean set the pizza down on the coffee table, and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. Christine balanced the salad bowls on her good arm and carried some forks in between her fingers. They settled on the couch in front of the large flat screen TV Christine bought Ben last week for his gaming system. She shuffled over to the DVD player and pulled out a sleeve of DVDs. After fumbling a little, she managed to put a disc in.

Christine plopped back down on the sofa with a sigh, "I know you hate procedural cop shows because-"

"They're all the same." They said in unison. Dean grinned, while Christine continued.

She shrugged, "NCIS just has a special place in my heart." She clicked on the TV and got an episode playing.

Dean tried to hide his approval for the show. He liked the lead agent, Gibbs; not that he'd ever admit to it outloud. Gibbs reminded him of Bobby. That was probably why the show connected so well with Christine in the first place. Plus, the actors and actresses could actually act. They also didn't wear sunglasses at night or inside like total douchebags.

They ate in companionable silence, save for the occasional giggle or gasp from Christine. Dean rested his right arm along the back of the couch, and after she'd finished with her plate, Christine had settled a little closer to him. You couldn't quite call it cuddling, but it was pretty damn close to it. Dean got up and cleared away the pizza, setting their dishes in the dishwasher to wash later. When he settled back on the couch, he made sure to slide in extra close to Christine, causing her to fall into his chest a little.

Christine knew what Dean was doing, he was trying to get her to let go. Being away from him for nearly a year had been extremely difficult. Her resolve to take things slowly was fading fast after just a few weeks around him again. When Dean returned to the couch she should have moved away from him, but instead she let him sit too close to her and let herself begin to entertain the idea of getting even closer with him.

"Sorry," Christine murmured, trying to straighten up away from him, her injured shoulder was making it tough.

Dean cocked a grin, "I'm not." Even after all this time, that quick reply still made her giggle. He shifted slightly so his arm slid down her back and wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against his side. The episode ended, so Christine busied herself with turning off the DVD player and TV, all the while, Dean continued to hold on to her. She leaned forward a little and set the remote down on the coffee table. As she leaned back, Dean's hand came up to brush her hair off her collarbone. "Sam told me he took care of the Son of a bitch." Dean's voice had taken on a deadly tone as his fingers traced the angry scar left by the werewolf.

Christine's cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I just lost focus-"

"It was a monster, Chris." He cut her off from talking bad about herself, "A monster, who'd caught your scent." He sighed, pinching his nose. "I'm just glad that my brother had your back when I couldn't."

"Dean, I need you to understand what happened between me and Sam." Christine said in a rush, "It was selfish, I wanted to be wanted." She sighed, "He had been touching me more, walking closer to me, and even turned down a two bed room for a single just the night before and I just-"

"let go." Dean finished for her. He turned to face her, drawing his right leg up on the couch a little. "I understand, Chris." He sighed, "I forgive you."

Christine's breath caught in her chest, it felt like her heart stopped. "What?!"

Dean chuckled, "Yeah." He took a quick breath, "I was really angry at first, I mean I wanted to punch Sam into next year." He huffed, "Then I saw the way you had come to your senses, and I couldn't be mad at you anymore." Christine cocked an eyebrow in question. Dean held up his hand, "For the past few weeks, I tried to picture myself in your shoes. I wasn't hunting, but I was trying to move on with Lisa and-" He sighed, "I guess, what I'm trying to say is, I get how it could've happened. God knows, I'm not happy about it, but I get it."

"I'm not happy about it either, Dean." Christine said with a wry smile. "I am," She cleared her throat, "happy, that I'm here now, with you." She looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Really, now." Dean said with a mischievous grin. "You sure you're not itching to hit the road and hunt something?"

Christine barked a laugh, "Yeah, I'm really itching to slice a couple of vamps' heads off." She motioned to her immobilized arm. "I guess I could hold your jacket and watch..."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, "Son of a Bitch!" He exclaimed softly, "I-uh-"

"It's fine, Dean." She giggled, her good hand resting over his heart. "In all seriousness, I'm content letting this sucker rest."

"No way," Dean murmured with mock surprise, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. He was having trouble not just kissing her senseless. Their 'almost kiss' in the kitchen earlier had revved his motor more than he wanted to admit.

Christine nodded adamantly, completely missing his sarcasm, "You bet, at first I was like, 'Son of Bitch, this really blows.' Then after I relaxed a little, I realized the sling really does take the pressure off…" She trailed off, realizing she was babbling. She clapped her good hand over her mouth, "Sorry." she said through her fingers.

Dean just shook his head a little. "Turn around," He said gently, motioning with his finger for her to rotate away from him. "I want to help take the pressure off even more." He murmured in her ear as she settled back against his chest. "How's that sound, hmm?" His voice did that velvety dark chocolate thing that made her insides quake. All she could manage was a nod. Dean chuckled a little to himself. He smoothed his hands along her shoulders, and gently unclasped the sling. "Cradle your arm into your chest, Chris." He murmured into her ear, pressing a kiss just behind the lobe. She shivered a little and did as he asked. He helped her scoot back, and extended his right leg around her hip, along the back of the couch. "Relax," He breathed, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck, kneading her tight shoulders gently with his fingers.

Christine tried to relax, letting her eyes fall closed at the sensation of being held so close to him, letting it sink deep into her bones. Dean's chest radiated heat, and she could feel her muscles begin to let go and succumb to the combo of it and the arousal she felt flooding her veins. "Mmmm." She moaned, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. He bent his head and captured her upturned lips in a soft kiss. He didn't deepen the kiss, he just trailed kisses down to where her neck met her shoulder as he continued the massage. He was trying to keep his arousal in check, and failing miserably. Christine could feel herself drifting down, down towards sleep, and shifted slightly in his lap to keep herself awake. Suddenly she was very awake, having brushed up against Dean's arousal pressing hot and urgent against her lower back.

Dean tried to move back away from Christine as she shifted in his lap. He wasn't quick enough. "Uh," He cleared his throat, sliding his hand down his face. "I'm sorry, Chris." He murmured, fighting the urge to turn her around and kiss her silly.

Christine couldn't suppress the giggle in her throat, "I'm not." She used his infamous line on him. She turned, carefully resting her injured shoulder against the back of the couch. Dean gave her a questioning look, and before she could change her mind she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Dean didn't want to rush Christine. Even when they were kids, she always needed time to adjust and get her wits about her. The last few weeks seemed to click into place as she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. He couldn't contain the moan of pleasure that bubbled up from his soul as she raked her fingernails across his scalp. He wrapped her up, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel the fire beginning to build between them. He continued to ravage her mouth, taking his time in learning all her sweet spots again. After a few moments he broke away to catch his breath, letting his eyes refocus on hers.

"Your place or mine?" Dean drawled with his signature panty-dropping smirk.

Christine took a deep breath, pressing her knuckles to her lips. Dean just simply waited. He knew if he pushed, Christine would scurry off to her own bed for the night. Christine thought about how she tossed and turned for the past week, unable to relax. Mostly because of her shoulder, but being close to Dean again had her body completely a mess again. _Was she ready to do this? Oh hell yes..._ "Yours." She answered with a soft, shy smile. Dean's smile grew wider and he swiftly picked her up, careful of her injured shoulder and carried her through the house to the garage. She insisted that she could walk, so he led her up the steps to his room above the garage.

* * *

The space was incredibly Dean. The only furniture sat over by the wide window and skylight. A double bed rested underneath the skylight, tucked up under the window sill. She had been up here a few times, gathering his sheets and dirty clothes for laundry. He was always away at work, so she had yet to encounter him in this space. Dean crossed the room and drew the curtains for some privacy. The skylight bathed the bed in soft moonlight, and he lit the candle she put on his nightstand last week. She knew he had a thing for candles, which is why she picked up two, one for her room and one for his. As she settled down on the bed, she couldn't deny the comfort it brought her to have it lit.

Dean settled beside her and gently gripped her chin with his fingers. "I've missed you, Christine." His eyes seemed to stare into her soul. "I love you." He murmured.

Christine choked back a sob. Dean wasn't a man of flowery affection. He was deliberate and carefully measured when he spoke about his true feelings. "I love you." Christine answered. She took a deep breath, "This past year has been so hard." She barked a laugh, "You'd think I would've learned by now that life just isn't the same without you."

Dean's lips relaxed into a warm smile. "Yeah, guess I should've figured you'd get out." He sighed.

"Don't." Christine warned, turning so she could straddle his lap. Dean scooted so his back rested against the wall. "Don't apologize for trying to have a normal life." She sighed, "I wanted you to. I love you, Dean." She wiped away a stray tear.

Dean smirked, shaking his head a little. "You just won't let me throw a pity party will you?"

"Never." She smiled, "Not on my watch, Winchester." She settled in his lap. "So is this going to be like first time we were together, or that time I told you I'd see you in three weeks and you rocked my world in the back of the Impala?" She kissed his nose.

"Why?" He scoffed, his cheeks turning a little pink.

"Just comparing notes," She said cheekily, "You always keep me on my toes…"

"Well," Dean drawled, "Class is in session."

* * *

 **Three days later**

"Whoops," Christine exclaimed as she dropped a shotgun shell on the garage floor. "Hang on a sec, Ben." She bent down to pick up the shell, only to watch it roll under the right rear fender of the Impala. "Balls." She murmured, dropping down on her hands and knees to reach for it.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed as he entered the garage. Ben stood in front of the Impala's open trunk, holding one of the sawed off shotguns. Christine froze. How was she going to explain this one to the retired hunter? They'd agreed to put the life behind them.

"Hey, hey, give me that." He took the gun from Ben, placed it securely back in the compartment and closed the trunk. As he straightened, he caught a faint whiff of _Charlie_ the perfume Christine wore since he knew her as an adult. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I just wanted to see it," Ben gulped.

"Listen to me. Don't ever open this trunk." Dean ordered, his jaw clenched. "Do you understand me?"

"Okay, sorry." Ben exclaimed, "But I don't get it." He continued, "You had your own rifle when you were my age."

"Ben, mark my words." Dean said in a deadly voice, "You will never, ever shoot a gun. Ever."

"I know what's going on. You think something's coming for us." Ben protested, he was definitely too smart for his age.

"There's nothing coming for us." Dean assured him, crossing his arms.

Ben shook his head, "I could do what you do. You could teach me how to shoot-"

"Shut up about the freaking gun, okay?" Dean roared, sounding so much like his father, he was sick to his stomach.

"Okay, sorry. I'm sorry." Ben murmured, backing away. Then he turned and fled the garage.

Dean shook his head and covered the trunk with the tarp again.

"You can come out now, Chris." Dean drawled, leaning against the workbench, crossing his arms across his chest.

Christine pushed off the smooth, cool sheet metal of the Impala and turned to face the man who'd wormed his way back into her heart. "Dean, I know what you're going to say-" Christine began.

"Do you?" Dean pushed off the workbench. "Go ahead, tell me what I'm going to say."

His dander was definitely up. His dreams consisted of terrifying nightmares of things crawling out of the Impala's trunk and getting into the house, killing Lisa and Ben. Then the creature would torture Christine just like he'd done when he'd gotten off the rack.

"How could I be so stupid, we've come so far." She sighed, "Ben is only a kid. Don't you want a normal life?"

Dean just stared at her, his eyes twinkling in the shadowed garage. He scoffed, palming his jaw.

"What, no smart ass remark, Winchester?" Christine asked, her anger rising. How could he just stand there?

"Oh, I've got a smart ass remark alright." Dean drawled, eyes flashing with anger. "I don't understand how you want me out of this life so bad, but here you are, showing this kid the ropes. How does that even make sense?"

Christine sighed, "I thought you could get out, I really did Dean." She paused and pinched her nose in frustration, "Then those Djinn came for you and I began to realize there isn't a way of ditching the life, no matter how hard you try, or how bad you want it."

"So these last three days have been, what? Fairy dust?" He asked, waving his arms in the air.

"These last three days have been some of the best days of my life, Dean Winchester." Christine spat, "Don't you go and spin this around on me. You know as well as I do, this life doesn't just go quietly into the closet. The reality that things go bump in the night keeps our blood pumping, keeps our souls aflame." She declared, "Don't pretend what we have rises and falls with this life. Don't do that. I can't handle-" Her voice broke. "I can't handle losing you, not again."

Dean felt his throat close up at the sight of Christine getting close to tears. His jaw clenched. "Son of a bitch," He murmured. He took a quick breath then let it out, squeezing his eyes shut, "I have these nightmares…" He trailed off, popping one eye open to see her reaction. All she did was come closer place her good hand on his crossed arms. He took her hand in his. "Some creature crawls out of this trunk and kills Ben or Lisa." He sighed, "Then it ties you up and tortures you."

Christine watched Dean confess to having nightmares. He'd had them before; after they returned from Hell. She'd had the same nightmare since she was a kid. He knew about it. Too often she'd wake up with Dean watching her, his hands soothing her body, trying to get her to come gently awake or calm down and stay asleep.

"Dean…"She crooned, "Baby, I know this isn't easy, I-" Suddenly her phone rang. It was Sam.

She cocked an eyebrow and showed the screen to Dean. He simply nodded his head, pursing his lips. Case and point…"Hey Sam, what's up?" She listened to him explain the situation. "Whoa, hold on a sec." She said in to the phone. She locked eyes with Dean. "You're never gonna believe this." She murmured. Then she put the call on speaker, "Let's run that again, I'm with Dean, you're on speaker."

"I need your help guys," Sam said, sounding more annoyed than panicked. "I've got a baby in my backseat."

* * *

 _From The Author's Desk…_

 _ **Pray Tell - Anberlin**_ _\- Anberlin is my favorite band. They've broken up, but they were the soundtrack of my youth. I saw this track performed live with gigantic floor drums and Switchfoot joined them on stage. Great Memories!_

 _Good day, dearest reader! Thanks for stopping by and indulging in my beloved story world, The Family Business Universe. I'm working on a conclusion to this fic, it will be in two parts. This is probably one of my favorite episodes, and I'm probably the exception, as I really enjoy Supernatural Season 6._

 _As always, I'd love to hear from you. Your reviews definitely feed the muse!_

 _xoxo_

 _Lumora The White_


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